Talk Algebra To Me
by Hardwood Studios
Summary: In which Jim seduces Spock with math.


_A/n: So I was sitting in my Algebra II class today, and we're learning about...linear inequalities, I think (I'll be honest, I was only somewhat paying attention...). My teacher said something like, "...The point where the two inequalities touch - or intersect." And wham! As soon as I hear the word 'touch', I automatically think - "Wow...Math is pretty inappropriate..." _

_And thus, this was born._

_Warning: Painful and difficult to understand math humor..._

* * *

It happened very suddenly and very unexpectedly.

Spock was sitting by his lonesome in the mess, his attention occupied by the bowl of Plomeek soup before him. He only sought to finish his meal in a timely fashion, and then return to his quarters for a long-overdue-meditation. But Spock did not often receive what he sought. His Captain made certain of it, and he was beginning to suspect the man of being deliberately obtuse.

Because there he was, flopping into the opposite seat and beaming at him with all the golden radiance of a couple hundred suns. Spock almost frowned. "Spock." His smile was all bright white teeth and _warmth_. A warmth that Spock would readily deny feeling, because a facial expression was incapable of producing tangible heat. "Captain." He gave a curt nod.

"Guess what." The Captain was looking at him expectantly. As he did not know what response Jim was expecting, he answered in the only way he knew. "I do not have enough data to postulate an accurate 'guess', Captain." His voice bordered just on the side of dry, but it only caused Jim's ever-present-smile to widen.

"You must be the square root of -1, because you _can't _be real."

And so it began.

* * *

The next time it occurred was over a game of a chess.

Spock watched in quiet fascination as a strategy clicked and locked into place just behind the blue of his Captain's eyes. He had firsthand experience with the dynamic landscape of Jim's mind; it was relatively simple for him to picture the vibrant coils of thought unfurling across that incandescent space. The mental image was enough to make his pulse stutter.

Jim smiled that crooked smile. He curled slender fingers around the Bishop, stroking the dips and curves of the aged wood with an _almost _eroticism, before sliding it across the board. Spock fought the urge to stare. "You seem a bit distracted tonight, Spock." He sounded cheeky. Spock lowered his gaze onto the board, studying it with a feigned intensity. "I am not distracted this evening, Captain. Your concern is not necessary."

"Jim." Their eyes met in a clash of color. Spock arched a single brow, and Jim could discern its meaning with ease. "I've told you a million times. Call me Jim when we're off duty." He said this very seriously. If Spock were human, he might have smiled. "My apologies, _Jim_." And somehow his voice pitched just an octave lower than it should have.

"So...I have a question. It's pretty important." Jim said suddenly, his expression sobering. Spock regarded him carefully, fine dark brows pulling together in barely-there-concern. It was rare to see Jim so serious when off duty; he feared this to be a grave matter. Silence burned between them for a long - _too _long - moment, and then...

"Can I bisect your angle?"

* * *

As Captain and First Officer were condemned to sharing a bathroom space, they quickly hunkered into a routine.

Spock required far less sleep than his human Captain, and was thusly able to use the the facilities hours before Jim stirred. Never have they needed to occupy the bathroom at the same time. And it was for this reason that Spock did not think it necessary to properly clothe himself before entering. This proved to be a faulty line of logic.

The very second his foot met tile, the opposite door - _Jim's _door - hissed open. Jim stepped into the bathroom, eyes hooded with sleep and mouth hanging open in a silent yawn. He didn't seem to notice Spock's presence, but Spock certainly noticed _his_. Spock felt his mouth go positively _dry_. His Captain was almost entirely nude, a thin pair of briefs the only article of clothing he donned. All that smooth golden skin and rippling muscle was exposed for _his _viewing pleasure.

No. Not pleasure. Spock did not take pleasure in the sight of his Captain's indecency. He did _not_.

Before he could make himself known, those bleary blue eyes alighted on him. And then grew impossibly wide. "Spock?" He rasped out, his voice deep and thick with lethargy. Jim's gaze dropped down his body, and Spock could _feel_ his stare as if it projected a_ physical heat_.

Then he remembered his own indecency.

"Spock...? You're not wearing a shirt..."

"Indeed."

"...Is there a uh...reason for that?"

"...Indeed."

An apple green flush crept over his pale cheeks, and an answering rosy hue was burning across the face of his Captain. Their eyes met in a mutual flurry of embarrassment and unspoken emotions. There were many words that _needed _to be said. But those were _dangerous _words; words that would tip the balance of their already precarious friendship.

"I guess this would be a good time to tell you..."

"Captain?"

"...I think you just made my binomials expand, Mr. Spock."

_And _cue the wiggling eyebrows and lascivious grin.

* * *

Spock was focused. He was _more _than focused. He was downright _oblivious _to the world around him, as he considered the molecular readings flickering across the screen. This data could hold the key to the growth and maintenance of Terran crops on New Vulcan. It was _paramount _that he find the connection between the two strands.

And then his Captain was _right _there - in _such _close range - and Spock was absolutely not startled. He was not. "Hey there, Spock!" He chirped, with all that trademark cheerfulness. Spock looked to Jim with quiet reproach in his eyes, a not frown shaping his mouth. "Captain." He did not sigh. He did _not_. "Do you require assistance?"

"Nope. I just wanted to spend time with my _favorite _Vulcan First Officer."

"I am your only Vulcan First Officer, Captain." Spock sent Jim a withering look.

"Well if I had another Vulcan First Officer, you would still be my favorite." His smile stretched from ear to ear, and Spock found it difficult to remain irate with this particular human. He chose not to mention that it was only possible to have _one _First Officer serving on a Starship. His Captain surely knew this, and was merely being facetious. "I am attempting to conduct research at this time, Captain. If you are not in need of assistance-"

"What kind of research?" Jim leaned forward - encroaching into his personal space - but it did not bother him as much as it should. "By finding and measuring the link between these two molecular strands, I believe it can be made possible for Terran plants to flourish on New Vulcan. It is quite fascinating." Jim dropped his chin into the palm of his hand, his eyes bright with a hungry curiosity. "It certainly sounds fascinating."

"Indeed, Captain."

"Well I think there's something _else _you should be measuring, Mr. Spock." Spock caught the glance of his Captain with no small amount of trepidation. There was that _smile _again, and it set him _just _at the edge "And what is it that you suggest?" He asked slowly.

"Why don't we measure the coefficient of_ static friction_ between _you _and_ I_?"

Dead silence.

"...That hardly seems like a satisfactory use of my time, Captain."

"Ouch, Spock. Ouch."

* * *

They were gearing up for their next away mission.

The Captain, to the ultimate disapproval of his First Officer, was joining the landing party. His eyes were just as bright and blue as they always were, his smile just as mischievous and gleaming. Jim was unnaturally stubborn about joining _every single _landing party, despite the nine regulations he was breaking in the process.

Then there was the troubling frequency in which he was incapitated by injury, illness, unexplained alien phenomena, or some combination of the three.

He watched in silent displeasure as Jim strapped a communicator to his belt. No, Spock was _not _pleased. But there was little he could do once Jim has made up his mind. _Stubborn_. He would simply have to keep a closer eye on his Captain; Jim referred to this as 'babysitting', but Spock referred to it as necessary. With an inaudible sigh, he began fastening a phaser to his belt. There was a 76.0986 percent chance it would be needed.

And then Jim was at his side. If it weren't a physical impossibility, Spock might say his Captain was vibrating with excitement. "Captain." He acknowledged in his usual monotone. Jim bounced forward on the balls of his feet. "Do you think the Boglodites are as violent as they're rumored to be, Spock?" He almost sounded _thrilled _by the prospect of a violent alien race. Spock raised a stern eyebrow. "I sincerely hope not."

He went back to fixing the phaser at his side, and then pulled his uniform shirt over the handle of the weapon. Just as he was slipping a tricorder around his neck, he caught the hitch of Jim's laughter. _Like raindrops and tangible mischief_. He met the sparkling blues of his Superior with a microscopic frown. Jim gestured to the phaser at his side, a wry grin shaping a pink mouth.

"Is that an asymptote in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Spock blinked.

"...That would be my phaser, Captain."

* * *

They were in sickbay.

The Captain was curled up on a biobed, half delirious from the cocktail of drugs pumping into his damaged body. He was mumbling incoherent nonsense, eyelids fluttering over glazed eyes. A light sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead, and his chest was rising and falling too quickly. Spock sat next to him, all but _radiating_ a white hot rage with nothing more than a ramrod spine and a not-frown.

Doctor McCoy stood on the other side of the Captain, frowning down angrily at the PADD he held. An audible growl was rattling in his throat, and his fingers were tightening around the stylus. "Six broken ribs, mild concussion, cracked femur, shattered wrist, dislocated jaw. _Goddammit_, Spock! What the hell happened down there?!" He hissed quietly, mindful of his recovering patient.

"It was an ambush, Doctor. The Boglodites were waiting for us." He spoke in clipped, cold tones. Leonard damn near shivered.

"Those bastards did a real number on him." He grouched. He looked down at Jim's battered body, and deflated - the anger leaving him in a rush of hot air. "How the hell does this keep happening? I know Jim's a giant magnet for trouble, but this..." The Doctor sounded weary, exhausted even. "This is just ridiculous!" Spock was inclined to agree. It was something of a miracle for Jim to walk away from a mission unscathed.

"The Captain manages to find danger in every quadrant of the universe." If he were anyone other than Spock, Bones might say he sounded sullen. "Well that's an understatement if I've ever heard one!" He scoffed, his southern accent thickening.

"Sp'ck!" Jim was reaching out towards his First Officer, a sloppy smile mottling his too pale face.

Spock went stone still as clammy fingertips brushed against his neck in a feather light caress. Bones was gaping in open shock. "Nngh, Sp'ck! Guess wha'?"Jim slurred out, trying - and failing miserably - to roll onto his side. "Captain. I must ask you to cease your movement. You require rest." His voice was even more monotone than usual, bordering on _robotic_.

Jim _giggled_. "If you an' I were linear inequalities, we would be intersecting _all over the place_."

McCoy almost choked to death on his own tongue. "_What_? Jim!" He choked out, his eyes growing round and his mouth falling open. A subtle dusting of green spread across Spock's pale face, but his expression remained otherwise blank. "Captain, please-"

"You should be the numerator and I should be the denominator, and we should reduce to the simplest form! And by that I mean be _naked_! _Together_! In _bed_!" Jim was squirming on the biobed, trying his _damndest _to reach Spock. To _touch _him. Spock looked down at him in something like subtle horror. "You are being deliberately obtuse, Captain. I urge you to remain still."

"I'm not being obtuse! You're just acute Vulcan! Get it? _Acute_?" And then more hysterical giggling. McCoy was outright gobsmacked. Had Jim lost his goddamn _mind_? Using _math _to pick up a _Vulcan_? No, it was just the drugs talking. It had to be. Dear God, let it be the drugs. "Jim, get a hold of yourself!" He barked. And was blatantly ignored. Jim only had eyes for Spock, and Spock looked about as mortified as a Vulcan could look.

"You should squeeze my Theorem, while I poly your nomial!"

"_Captain_-"

"I wish I was a problem set, because then I'd be hard and you would do me on the desk..."

"..."

It was _so _silent, simply breathing was like a cacophony of noise. Spock and McCoy were openly staring at their Captain. McCoy was at a complete loss for words, speech failing him for the first time in his life. Jim blinked his baby blues up at them, the perfect picture of innocence. "Hey, Sp'ck." He murmured, batting his golden lashes."...Yes, Captain?" Spock almost sounded to be in a daze.

"What do me and math have in common?"

"..."

"...We're both easy for you to do..."

* * *

It had been 5.349 minutes. Spock stared - unblinkingly - at his Captain's door as if it held the multitude of answers he sought. But that would be illogical for doors were not sentient beings and they did not posses the ability to relay information. He was not afraid to enter, he was...waiting for the right moment. Yes, waiting.

He did not have to wait much longer, for the door slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss only a few seconds later. And Jim blinked up at him from the doorway. "Spock! You're uh...standing outside my room." A confused frown unfurled across his bronzed face. Spock was not certain how to reply, and so he simply nodded.

"Did...you want to come inside?" He asked slowly and somewhat hesitantly.

"That would be acceptable."

Jim stepped back into the darkness of his quarters, and Spock moved in after him. The door hissed shut behind him, and they were alone midst the shadows. A thrill of excitement lit up within him, and he was quick to snuff it out. Now was not the time for distractions. "Lights to forty percent." Jim called out, and locked eyes with his First Officer as soon as his room flooded with the soft fluorescence.

"What do you need, Spock?"

"Captain, it has come to my attention-"

"Jim, Spock. Call me Jim." Jim was looking at him with _such _intensity, and he realized that he was _returning_ that look with an equal intensity. The air between them was crackling with an electrical tension, and _something_ was coming. Something they were ready to _embrace_. "Jim." His voice was soft around the edges, and Jim _smiled _at him as if that was all he needed to hear.

"I now realize that you have been utilizing mathematical quips in an attempt to snare my attention."

"Oh? You just now realized that, huh?" Jim arched an amused eyebrow at him, his eyes sparkling like a Terran ocean.

"I wish to inform you that your attempts are no longer necessary." He said formally, coldly. Jim reeled back as if he had been slapped. "O-Oh. Spock, I-" He never got the chance to finish his faltering reply, as Spock soldiered on.

"It has _never _been necessary, Jim. From the very moment we first met, you have fascinated me. That fascination has only grown with time, until your presence in my life became essential. You challenge me, you ground me, and you bring me a peace of mind that I thought unattainable. I would gladly give my life in exchange for yours, not simply because it is my duty." He was baring his heart on his sleeve for the very first time, his voice resounding with a soulful honesty.

Jim was gawking at him in absolute _shock_. Could he possibly mean...? "Spock, what are you...?"

"I believe this is what humans would call 'love', Jim."

And then their mouths were meeting in a hot flurry of teeth and tongue and _everythinggoodintheworld_. Jim pressed himself against the tall hardness of this gorgeous Vulcan, desperately trying to fuse their bodies into one being. His arms coiled around that slender neck, and he felt burning palms take his hips. Their tongues were entangled so sweetly, and their lips were melting together so feverishly. He didn't want to stop long enough to _breathe_.

Spock was attaching his teeth to that tender throat, and Jim _moaned_. It was a long, loud sound that echoed off the walls. "Sp-Spock! Are you - _gasp _- sure about - _moan _- this?" He breathed out brokenly, his fingers tangling into that perfectly straight cap of ebony hair. Spock licked a blistering stripe across Jim's collarbone. "I have never been so sure about anything in my life, Jim."

"I _knew _you wouldn't be able to resist some dirty talk."


End file.
